


Random Thoughts

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Metaphors, mindless rambling, thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10048424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When many events simultaneously transpire in one's life, it is sometimes difficult to properly contemplate those stray thoughts.





	1. Preface

Before I begin with my thoughts, I must state that I am an individual who is average in many respects. I am neither a genius, nor am I dull - just an adult of average intelligence. My identity does not matter for my name will be lost in history, as have billions of others. It does not bother me as I do not seek to leave my mark on this world. 

My thoughts are neither profound nor novel. I am simply here to let out the thoughts that have continuously tug at my consciousness; these thoughts serve no real purpose other than to distract me from the circumstances of daily life. They consume my energy at times and often take up moments that I would otherwise use to go about my obligations and plans.

Perhaps I need this break in reality every once in a while. It does provide me with some diversion from a great deal of stressful conjuncture - possibly as a coping mechanism. However, it also backfires and keeps my introspection going into the night. It's difficult to sleep when my mind refuses to give me solace from these intrusions. I'd like to write down these thoughts just to get them out of my head.

I will write about my thoughts and explain them to the best of my ability. If I can properly dissect and deconstruct these notions, perhaps I can put them to rest. Some may be more formal than others, and some might just be plain nonsensical. Whatever the case is, I shall let them flow from my stream of consciousness as naturally as possible.


	2. Free Will

A puppet's existence can be described as completely dependent; it requires input from a puppeteer to make any sort of movement. Without the puppeteer, the puppet will never move from its spot, forever collecting dust. It has no control over its own being nor does it have any sense of sentiment. Everything it does is just a result of its master's bidding.

That is a relationship similar to the one I have towards characters in the stories I create. Without much effort, I can generate a plane of existence - a world, if you will - for the characters to thrive in. On my whims, I can place them in perilous situations or give them luxurious lives. I can make the characters feel any emotion, and it can be as realistic or fictitious as I desire. Every tidbit, every moment, even the character's thoughts are controlled by me and can be changed at will.

A character in a story, movie, and any such medium can be constructed to have emotions deemed realistic. At a certain point of realism, the character becomes relatable enough that the viewer feels sympathetic towards the character - much like listening to a friend telling a tale of some emotional event. 

However, we can distinguish that the character is not real in a sense that they do not exist in our reality. Moreover, the character cannot think independently of what their creator decides for them to believe in.

My question is: How do we know if our thoughts and actions were not arbitrarily decided by someone else? Another way to think about this is: Do we have free will?

As characters in stories go about their lives, they encounter obstacles and make decisions - or at least, that is what they are led to believe. They think that they are given the ability to choose, when in reality, their choices, actions and results were predetermined by their creators. Just like puppets, those characters could only do as the creator scripts them to do. They have no notion of other possibilities, even though they seem to have a choice.

To give a concrete example, I will use a character from an original story I worked on years ago. A simple working class boy named Jason diligently worked his way to become a doctor after his father died from cancer. The emotions he felt were reasonable, given the circumstances he had gone through.

The character, Jason, had gone through many revisions as I had originally planned for him to take a different occupation. Jason never knew of the previous iterations I had created of himself. If he knew, it would be "breaking the fourth wall" - as we may call it. Of course, I could easily give him such self-awareness and have him act accordingly, but that in itself is also a result of my commands.

As the writer, I have devised the story to progress such that Jason affirms that he is in control of his life - a life that I could also easily end at any time. He believes that he chose to be a doctor over his childhood dream, but that was predetermined by me, the writer. I could have chosen to go along with the other idea just as easily. He would be none the wiser of this alternative chain of events. 

Without my will to progress the story, it is forever stuck in time. The characters of course, do not feel anything as they are just mere puppets without minds of their own. They cannot resume the story on their own; they do not even have the ability to realize that time has stopped.

If I can so easily control the fate and actions of my characters, then who is to say that I'm not also a puppet as well? Surely, I am given options in my daily life such as what to eat for lunch; however, it is uncertain whether or not my choices are actually of my own. The various alternatives themselves could very well be illusions to trick me into believing that I have free will.

The topic of free will has been discussed countless times by multiple philosophers, but the answers are inconsistent. We do not know for sure what is right or wrong, but should it really matter? Whether we believe in free will or not, we simply have no choice but to go along with it.

Even so, I still wonder: Am I a puppeteer or a puppet given the deception of free will?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you managed to sit through this incoherent mess, I applaud you. Thank you for reading. I'll try to have the next entry make more sense.


	3. Fever Induced Nightmare

Just about a week ago, I had a rather short but discomforting fever. As with most incidences of fevers, I had quite a vivid dream - except, this one was an unnerving nightmare.

I don't quite remember all of the details, nor are all of them important. I'm not one to write about dreams unless they are very compelling. This one, in particular, had burned moments of it into my long-term memory and thus it continuously resurfaces in my thoughts. And so, I shall retell the parts that perturbs me so persistently.

I was in a place that seemed to be a tunnel; there were no lights so I pressed one hand on a wall as I walked in order to avoid a collision. From a distance, there was a faint sound just barely above audibility. As I followed the direction of the noise, I soon made out that it was someone crying. I wanted answers as to where I was, so I - rather foolishly - continued towards the source like a horror movie protagonist.

As the crying got louder, I approached a dimly lit room, and on the other side was a woman holding a baby. I couldn't see quite clearly as the lighting was poor, but my sense of fear quickly kicked in - albeit too late. Without hesitation, the woman darted towards me and stabbed my chest with a knife. The incision wasn't particularly painful, but the sight of it was terrifying. As the woman continued to stab me, I noticed that the cavities of the baby's chest was empty. 

Once the ordeal was done, she reached into the opened wound and took out my heart to place into the baby's chest. I thought that I would die at that very moment, but my body was somehow able to function without a heart (dream logic). 

The next part was what was truly astounding; while my consciousness remained at my own body, I was also able to feel part of it drift to the baby's. I was able to see the world from two different vantage points simultaneously such that I was having an out-of-body experience twice! I was literally two people at once and it felt quite strange seeing myself from a third person perspective.

However, the experience didn't last long as one of my consciousness soon started to fade. The heart in the baby's body turned into ashes, and the baby itself followed suit afterwards. As that occurred, it was as if I was caught in a quick explosion, and my transient consciousness disappeared. Once again, my perspective became normal. My heart did not return nor replenish itself, but I was still alive and well. Quite literally, I ended that dream feeling empty.


	4. Fanfiction

What is fanfiction? I'm sure most of you know - after all, we are on a website that hosts a great variety of it. For those that somehow don't know: Fanfictions are fan created stories that are transformed and/or derived from a work (e.g. books, movies). These fan made works could slightly diverge from the canon material or it could even be something completely different. There really isn't a limit to fanfiction; the only limit is what the mind could create.

Of course, as there are no boundaries to fanfiction, people can write about whatever they want. Without a doubt, many people choose to go to rather...explicit ventures. There is no denying that a great percentage of fanfiction are rated mature, but that doesn't mean that all fanfiction are like that.

The general public automatically thinks of those stories as soon as they hear the word "fanfiction." Unfortunately, the word has a negative connotation, but I don't blame them for thinking that way. After all, there is a great deal of explicit fanfiction on the internet. However, I'm not saying that those types of fanfiction are invalid. It's rather upsetting that some people won't give fanfiction a chance due to those explicit works and the assumption that it can't be a serious craft.

Fanfiction can be serious and respectable; it is up to each individual writer how they want to present their story. It's unfair to dismiss fanfiction simply because it's not canon material. If anything, fanfictions are the products of each writer's passion for whatever fandom they choose to write for. Unless one is writing solely for monetary gain, it is something the writer takes a great interest in. It is no less valid as any other hobby and it is not a waste of time.

Writing is easy; writing WELL is not. In order to improve with writing, practice is necessary. And the best way to do so is to write about something you love. With a topic you're passionate about, you'd find inspiration quicker than starting off with a blank slate. You're also more likely to stay motivated to continue writing because it's about something you enjoy. Everyone starts from somewhere, and the best way to start is with something you're dedicated to.

Writers that are anti-fanfiction do not understand passion and the sense of community that comes from reading and writing fanfiction. Fan works bring together people in a fandom. Fanfiction allows writers to express their interest and show that they have put effort into creating fan works. It is a great way to connect with others that have the same interest.

In short, fanfiction is an under appreciated craft. Behind those stories are communities of people with enthusiasm and passion for their fandom. Perhaps we can hope that someday, more people will become open minded to fanfiction.


	5. Simple Words

"Thank you."

Those are two simple words that could be said out of politeness or hold a lot of meaning. I've mostly heard those words with the former reasoning. They're filler words said either because some people have been conditioned to do so or they didn't want to appear rude. While I do appreciate that they had the courtesy to say it, it feels empty.

I haven't done much that warrant genuine gratitude, so it came to me as a surprise when someone had showed their appreciation for my actions - or rather words in this case. I've complimented someone (and I really did mean it) but I wasn't expecting a response of the caliber that I received. It's strange knowing that my words could have such a positive impact on someone else. 

Being thanked for my words was a foreign concept to me. It gave me a strange but pleasant feeling that I've heard the words "thank you" with substance. For a lack of better words, I'm quite happy to feel what I've felt and I'm truly grateful.


	6. Down a Rabbit Hole

I was idly sitting by the river bank, staring absentmindedly at the clouds. It was a tranquil afternoon with the placid breeze gently ticking my skin, the sun radiating its warmth, and the sounds of the waters peacefully flowing downstream. The trees provided shaded me from the unwavering rays of heat from the sun.

The warm, lazy afternoon had nearly lulled me to sleep, so I decided to cool off with a splash of water from the river. As I dipped my hand into the creek, the water changed from transparent into various shades of blue and purple with each ripple that formed. Amused and taken aback, I left my hand in the brook and watched the ever-changing colors. Moments later, I felt a mild tug that beckoned me to reach further into the water.

Curiosity over took me, so I allowed the gentle force pull me into the river. The waters were much warmer than I had anticipated, and the current appeared to have ceased as I was slowly tugged into the stream. With each passing moment, the water became more and more vibrant with other colors—red, yellow and orange—that appeared.

These were some rather strange occurrences that I questioned at first, but decided to let the course of events lead me where ever it may go. This was rather intriguing compared to the boring afternoon that I could have spent just taking a nap. The idea that I could have drowned only crossed my mind as an afterthought.

Gradually, I was dragged in deeper into the calm, inviting waters; by reflex, I closed my eyes as I descended. When I became fully submerged, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I could breathe properly, as if I was still surrounded by air. The only challenge, however, was attempting to move around. Water is a thicker medium than air; I was a terrible swimmer.

Once I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a rather peculiar scene. Before me, there was a massive school of flying fish, but their wings were tinted with pastel shades of the rainbow. I tried to approach them, but most of them did not seem to notice my presence, save one individual.

A lone flying fish swam circles around me, which I figured was just a greeting. However, in that moment, my body became much lighter and I could move around at ease within the water. I thanked the fish, to which it responded with a light tap of its tail against my hand. It then pushed itself against my back and darted back and forth towards the rest of the fish, likely as a gesture for me to follow them.

As I swam along the fish, I noticed that they formed a gradient with the structure that assembled in; the ones in the front had bodies with shades of warmer colors, and going further down the line, the fish had cooler colors. I was at the tail end of the swarm along with the one that greeted me, which was the only one with black pigment.

The journey continued for quite some time, and I deduced that we were in an ocean since we had swum quite deeply into the water. I surmised that we had most likely left the pelagic zone since the surroundings gradually became darker. The only sources of luminescence were from the fish's vibrant wings and the mysterious orb of light that we followed.

In the darkness, I was able to faintly make out that we passed by an innumerable amount of old, decrepit buildings. Perhaps there was once a city in this now deep ocean. I was curious about the ruins, but I also did not want to separate from the fish and be left in the darkness; so, I disgruntledly trailed the rest of the pack.

More and more time had passed, and I wondered just where they were trying to lead me. We descended quite far into the ocean since I was first pulled in. Eventually, the bioluminescence disappeared along with the faint scenery, and the only thing I could see was the orb of light; I was even uncertain if the fish were among me at that point.

With a sense of fear instilled in me, I considered turning away, but I knew that to be a fool's errand. I was in complete darkness and that glow was the only thing visible to me—I had no choice but to continue my blind pursuit.

Soon after, we were headed towards what seemed to be a greater source of light. I sighed in relief as we approached it, and I noticed that the black flying fish was with me all along. The fish's body started to change into its natural colors and its wings became transparent. As we got closer, the radiance became too bright and I had to close my eyes to prevent being blinded.

With a sudden jolt, I had awoken to find myself safely back in my room. I hastily grabbed a pen and a notebook to recount as many details as possible of my peculiar dream. I smiled in delight at my notes and resumed my torpor, wondering what sort of world I'd find myself in next.


	7. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a metaphor for some issue I'm going through at the moment.

Without a map nor a compass, I’m stranded at sea. My resources are limited and I have not a clue where I am. Everywhere I look, it’s the same scenery…an endless stretch of ocean. The air is stale and devoid of wind. It is quite desolate—so lonely—here.

Where am I? More importantly, what can I do to get _somewhere_?

I just want to be somewhere else—anywhere else but here. I want to. I must. Surely if I stay here, I will eventually perish. My supplies are quickly depleting, so I have to make a decision soon. Time is running out.

But how do I find my way? I do not even know where I am in this unchanging backdrop. And if I were to reach land, what if its inhabitants are hostile? Surely, I’d be worse off to suffer a torturous death?

What am I worried about? The fears of uncertainty and the unknown cause me to hesitate to move forward. I know I can’t stay where I am, and yet I waver in my thoughts.

I tell myself that there is no use in staying idle. If I don’t make the initiative to advance, I will meet my inevitable demise. There is no one to push me into the right direction, as there is no one correct way—although, a guiding light is appreciated.

And so, I proceed into uncharted territory. Where ever I arrive, I must make the best of it.


	8. Seasonal Changes

Without a doubt, I have always preferred colder weather—and in turn, the cooler seasons. It is much easier to warm up from frigid temperatures than it is to cool off from sweltering heat. It goes without saying that I have a strong dislike of summer.

When people guess what my favorite season is, most would almost immediately think winter. It’s a logical conjecture—it is in fact, a close second—but not quite right. Winter does have its own appeal to it, and I do enjoy the holidays and the atmosphere that the season brings about. However, the time of the year I relish the most is right before winter.

There is something magical about autumn that sparks my fascination. For one, I rejoice that the scorching summer weather finally dissipates. Along with the shift in season, the colors associated with the environment adjusts as well; it is the time when the leaves of deciduous trees change color and fall off. The transformation brings about a brilliant glow, which I find to be quite pleasing to observe. While the intense summer sun convinces me to stay indoors, the vibrancy of the autumn compels me to take leisurely walks.

On a deeper level, there’s something about the falling of leaves that satiates my thoughts. For most deciduous trees in the Northern hemisphere, they lose their leaves towards the end of autumn or near the beginning of winter. The foliage that is shed is no longer needed—or as some would say, “dead weight.” To me, this seems quite poetic.

As the old leaves are shed, the redundant structures of the past year make way for new ones to flourish. When the year comes to an end, the deciduous trees become much like blank slates that await fresh memories to be made with the new year. Perhaps people are like that as well.

The time between autumn and winter is quite a beautiful segment of the year. I will always eagerly wait for these moments to cherish them once more.


End file.
